I missed my maternal grandfather's funeral which happened just after I got back to college in my junior year. He had been in poor health for some time with emphysema, however, and had written to tell me that if he died while I was at school, not to come home. So I didn't. And missed the "Funeral of the 17 Hams" (see above). But I can't say I regretted missing it. The hardest one, oddly enough, wasn't family but a neighbor I'd known since I was 10 and she was 9. She died at the age of 51, a few weeks before my Dad died.
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